Harry Potter and the Rise of the Shadow Empire
by Baronvonblack
Summary: Harry Potter died, and was reborn as a vampire. And soon he will make his mark in history as the greatest emperor the world has ever known.
1. Chapter 1

**A year ago**

The night was thick and heavy – a great fog dulled all senses, to the point where only the most adept and skilled of creatures could navigate easily, and even then, only if they knew where they were going. Outsiders would call this fog abnormal or unnatural, yet the residents of the nearby village knew that almost every night was like this, in whatever weather or season. Few would recognise that this fog was of a magical origin, as the knowledge of how to create such fog had been lost to the eternal mists of time.

A tall and gaunt man walked through this fog. All around him was silence – not a single human or animal was near. He wore silky black robes that flowed behind him like a current of water as he strode. His black and foreboding eyes scanned the white fog as he stopped abruptly, gloved hand resting on the hilt of a thin, elegant rapier. The golden hilt was formed into the elegant shape of a snake's head, with two small rubies serving as eyes. Its scabbard was decorated with gold trimmings, and studded with diamonds, emeralds and topaz – in sunlight these precious gems would glitter and sparkle dangerously; to the wizard it would seem as if they flashed with ethereal power.

Exactly a minute ticked pass as the gaunt man stood as still as a statue, his robe now flowing around him like black smog. He was patient, ever-so patient. To him, a hundred years could go by in the blink of an eye, a thousand years to him a day. There was no measure of time for him, for he was immortal, and the immortal know that the sands of time possess no meaning for them.

Another man appeared as he walked through the fog. His robes were unlike those of his companion's, they were much more regal and splendid. His face was strong, very strong, with a thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils. His eyebrows were massive – the overall effect was one of extraordinary pallor, although he possessed an air and a way about him that seemed to suggest his superiority and strength without making any effort to do so.

The first man spoke. "I have met again with Lord Voldemort, at your command. He knows much of our rituals – he used one of them to regain a body, I believe."

The second man's lips curled in disgust. "Foolish mortals. Their petty attempts at eternal life pale in comparison to what we, the creatures of the night possess. What has he offered?"

"Equality in the world as before, Count, although this time he offers two more things: a seat to voice opinion in his World Order, and free reign and passage to any land we so desire."

"Ha! Does he take me for a fool? Even with his Mind shields, his intentions were laid clearly for the world to see – he is a man who desires power only for himself. I declined his offer before…what makes him think the vampires shall join him now?"  
"Would it be wise, Count, to decline? Although I do not question your authority, what he promises is extremely tempting – even to the strongest of us."

At this the Count's face softened slightly. "Dear Edmund, you are one of my dearest and closest friends. Even in the greatest of trials, you stood by me, and for this your loyalty shall be rewarded. My promise to you is as unyielding as when I first declared it: one day, equality will be achieved. The vampires will rule, with the oppressed standing by our side – the werewolves, the goblins, the centaurs and elves, and so forth. It shall be as the scrolls have predicted, and I swear to you – you shall witness this day come to pass. Is my word not enough for you?"

"You know the answer to that, Count. And what of the child who bears the lightning scar?"

"This boy has peaked my interest. I will make closer observations. No mere mortal can survive the killing curse, and if his power is sufficient it would only take a little incident to force Voldemort and the boy into a final showdown."  
"Count…do you believe that this…child has the power to defeat him?"

"Perhaps. Even if it is not, we can easily finish him off in his diminished state after the duel. Either way, I do not like the thought of that madman on the loose. His power is considerable; he is strong enough to match even I in skill and knowledge. The quicker he is dealt with, the quicker we can move forward with our plans."

"Do you wish for me to send Sofia to observe him?"

"No – I will," the Count announced.

Edmund was inwardly surprised, but many years of discipline meant there was no more a reaction than a raised eyebrow. "Would that be wise?"

"It would be most…amusing. And some time away from my mistresses would be most desirable also. If Lord Voldemort fears this child then we may have ourselves a weapon to use against him."

"Surely you're not suggesting turning him, Count – you haven't sired anyone in over a hundred years! What if he is not strong enough?"

"I never suggested it, although perhaps there was an implication in my statement, which I do apologise for if there was. My intention was expressing the possibility of manipulating this boy into doing our dirty work."

"Count… although my loyalty to you is as unwavering as always, I cannot bear to think of using a boy to end the life of a powerful threat! Surely the vampire race has not demeaned itself to using a child to kill a madman such as this?"

"You know as well I do that there are no rules in war. While the thought itself disgusts me also, we must consider our brethren. If this madman attains total power, what will there be to stop him from enslaving us, or worse – exterminating us? We will be hunted down until the very last of us are destroyed – an ignoble end, wouldn't you say, to such a noble and powerful race?" The Count swirled around. "I will now return home to say farewell to my mistresses. Goodnight to you, Edmund."

-------

**Present – after the Department of Mysteries incident**

Harry unconsciously rubbed the scarring of the 'I must not tell lies' on his hand as he sat in the playground on a swing set, moving back and forth lazily. The sun was at its highest point in the sky, and he was beginning to feel the full oppressive heat of the summer.

Stuck in his tattered pocket was his wand and in his other pocket was his invisibility cloak. After carefully watching the patterns of the Order guards, Harry had escaped outside using his cloak in the ten minute window between the lunchtime shifts. He needed the fresh air, and for a student like him, being cooped up in a small and dark room was not very beneficial to his health.

_Sirius… _Harry shivered unconsciously. Although everybody else had told him it wasn't his fault, all he could see at night was Sirius's shocked eyes as he fell into the Veil, and this overwhelming, crushing guilt was heavy. Dark circles were under his eyes. He had found sleep all but an impossibility, and because of this his mental and physical heath were suffering. He had found it difficult to concentrate and so couldn't do his assignments – although he could concentrate plenty on other things. Already slim and underweight he now looked anorexic and like a walking skeleton. Harry laughed in dark amusement at what shock his friends would get when they saw him.

Several 'pops' sounded as Harry's eyes snapped up, his scar beginning to burn. He had been waiting for this for a long time. There was nothing left. Sirius was the last true link he had to his family, and now he was gone. This was it. He was only meant to be a weapon, right? And once he had fulfilled his purpose, he could be discarded, and he could see Sirius again. Harry's heart lifted.

"Harry Potter." The familiar voice drawled as his nemesis stepped into view. "We meet once again."

The boy wizard raised his wand grimly, undistinguishable rage burning in his emerald eyes. "You brought your cronies with you."

"They are only here to observe," Voldemort replied, getting into a comfortable dueling stance – Harry saw that he had a different wand from the last time they met. "You are easy to track, but it is impossible to break through those wards that your accursed muggle-loving Headmaster put up. You knew this, didn't you?"

"I did," Harry replied. "That's why I snuck out here every week. I knew you could eventually track me."

"And finally it ends today." Voldemort said with a dark smirk. "No more Headmasters or friends to save you this time, Potter. This time you will die, and you will do it all alone. You truly are a fool."

"Let's get this over with," Harry said as he bowed. _"Discerpo!" _he bellowed as he raised his head, moving to the side as he sent off the curse.

Voldemort's red eyes widened in shock as he dodged the limb severing curse. "You use the dark arts, Potter? Good." He raised his wand and silently sent several sickly looking spells at him.

Harry conjured up a glowing shield that managed to deflect most of the spells before leaping out of the way as it shattered under the impact of the last. _"Reducto!"_

And so the duel began in earnest. It was nothing like the titanic duel that Voldemort and Dumbledore both engaged it, it was nasty, heavy and like a slugging match. The Dark Lord was taken aback by the overwhelming ferocity of his arch-enemy's attacks and his insurmountable rage – rage which Harry had plenty of. In fact, most of the spells were actually cast quite poorly, except the sheer brute strength of Harry's magic forced it out of his wand. He had actually only read up on the spells – he hadn't practiced any of them.

The duel went on like this for another minute before Voldemort managed to get in a cutting curse, hitting Harry in his lower left leg. The slowdown in momentum was enough for Voldemort to get in several more nasty curses, hitting him in the chest, his wand arm and his other leg. Harry fell down as a pool of blood started to pour from his wounds.

Voldemort walked up to his dying form. "You have fought well, Mr. Potter, well enough that I, Lord Voldemort, congratulate you for your efforts." With this he bowed in respect before raising his wand again. "However futile they were. I will now grant you a quick and painless death instead of allowing you to bleed to death. A parting gift, as it was. Goodbye, Harry Potter! _Avada_…"

"Stop."

A dark blur flew over the Dark Lord's head and hit him with both feet outstretched, before gracefully flipping forward and landing in a crouched pose.

Voldemort staggered back a few steps before looking at the man in anger. "You!"

"Is killing children your idea of fun, Lord Voldemort?" the tall man asked, his eyes glowing with power.

"Count Dracula, what I do is my own business. _Avada Kedavra!"_

The vampire merely leaned out of the way of the green curse. "It seems that your lust for war has not changed. I take it that you still wish to achieve your outlandish dreams?"

"My vision could not be understood by a creature like yourself. Perhaps if you had accepted my proposition, I could have shared it with you. Instead I will merely settle for the pleasure of ending your life once and for all."

"You are grossly mistaken," Dracula replied even as Death Eaters began to line up around him. "Vampires are already dead. But you and your friends, however, are very much alive and killable."

Even as the Death Eaters began to attack him, the vampire made an inhuman leap into the air, flying backwards as he landed on the branch of a tree. He pulled out a stick from his cloak that extended into a staff, and sent a red burst of magic into the sky.

The ball of light blackened and spread, generating a black haze that stretched out over the playground, blocking out the sun as the area became pitch-black.

Many of the Death Eaters were confused at this tactic, but Voldemort's eyes widened as he realised what he was doing. "Retreat!"

It was too late – several bursts of purple electricity crackled around the area, gradually forming into whirling vortexes of energy. Figures began to pop out quickly, melding into human forms as incantations were shouted and spells were sent.

"Lord Voldemort!" Dracula yelled as he dropped from the tree and landed on both feet. The blood-red ruby mounted on his staff began to glow ethereally with power. "I send to you a message from the vampire race, and it is simple: Don't FUCK with us!" At this, a burst of charged magical energy was let out by the ruby, lancing across the playground. Left with no time to dodge, Voldemort hastily erected up a bubble-like purple shield. The beam shattered the shield, resulting in a loud bang and explosion that sent the Dark Lord flying back several feet. He quickly got up and sneered. "We'll meet again," he hissed before activating his portkey and disappearing.

Seeing that their master had retreated, the Death Eaters also began disappearing one by one.

"I look forward to it," the Count replied before turning his attention to the boy. Walking across the scorched playground, he bent over and put a hand on a vein in the boy's neck. "Still alive," he murmured.

"Orders, Count?" A redheaded woman asked.

"Send up the Dark Mark," Dracula replied, "And return to my manor. Lord Voldemort will keep silent about this affair, and so will his minions. This boy's dead corpse will spur the wizarding world into action, and both forces will eventually destroy themselves, leaving _us _to step in."

"Count…" Sofia pleadingly looked at the dying boy. He was beginning to fade now, his wounds were extremely severe. "We cannot leave this boy to die!"

"He has lost too much blood, Sofia," Dracula soothed. "He is beyond help now. Even a vampire bite cannot save him."

"Not unless he is sired by a powerful vampire – like yourself," Sofia replied urgently.

"Absolutely not! A vampire bite on a boy's neck will only serve to give us more…" he was silenced as Sofia fell on her knees and kissed the hem of his robes.

"Elder, please," Sofia begged. "I have done some truly detestable things over the years. Leaving a young boy to die is too much – even for me."

Dracula's icy grey eyes regarded her for a moment before sighing. "Very well, Sofia. But in the extremely unlikelihood that he does survive, you will find him and return with him, and he will be your responsibility. Can you deal with that?"

"I can."

"…Very well."

-------

Dumbledore was in the middle of having a nice hot chocolate break when Moody's head suddenly popped up in his fireplace.

"Albus, you've got to get over to Surrey now!" Moody shouted with urgency. "Something's happened to Potter!"

Dumbledore's eyes widened as he rose to his full height. "Fawkes!" he yelled, and the phoenix gave off a trill as it flew in front of the Headmaster. He grasped onto one of its tail feathers and the wizard felt the warm surge of energy pass through him as flames leapt around him before he found himself in Privet Drive.

He glanced at the house and checked it with his wand. The wards were still in place, so then why had Alastor called him? Turning around, Dumbledore paled as he saw several pillars of black smoke rising into the air down the street.

Hurrying down as fast as he could, the Headmaster was shocked at the scene that greeted him.

The playground was in flames as a Dark Mark hung ominously above the scene. Many of the trees had been torn off or blasted, pieces of wood scattered everywhere and there were several small craters where spells had landed. And lying there in the middle was a corpse…

"Harry!" Dumbledore croaked as tears began to form in his eyes. He ran over quickly, pulling his wand out, prepared to cast even the darkest of magic to keep him alive…

"It's too late, Albus," Moody said grimly as he hobbled over. Several other members of the Order were searching the area, attempting to find any clues as to what happened here. "He was dead when I got here."

Dumbledore swallowed, a bulge beginning to form in his throat as he struggled to recompose himself. "H-How did this happen?"

"Only one thing I can think of: Voldemort," Alastor replied, then pulled a letter out of his pocket, passing it to Albus. "Found this in the boy's room when I saw that he wasn't there. Came here immediately, but it was too late and the duel had ended. It's his alright – I checked it for every tampering spell that I know of, and his handwriting is unmistakable."

With shaking hands, Dumbledore unfurled it.

_**To whoever finds this letter:**_

_**If you are reading this, then either two things have happened. The first, I have run away, and the second, I have died. Just know that I'll have gone to a better place. I'm sick and tired of being protected, of being trapped in a little room all day. I'm sick of all the nightmares, visions, sick of the bloody prophecies and most of all, sick of all the death and pressure. In a moment, I am about to go out for ten minutes and take down what little Occlumency shields I have, then if all goes to plan, Voldemort will come. We will then duel, and if I die, I die. You can all go and get yourselves another savior, because I never wanted ANY of this in the first place! At the very least if I go, I can be with my parents and godfather. There's no one for me here – no friends to talk to, no communication with the outside world.**_

_**Goodbye**_

_**Your vaunted chosen one, Harry James Potter**_

Tears were flowing steadily from Dumbledore's eyes now as he held back choked sobs. He then realised what he had done – putting the boy in with the cruel Dursleys, keeping the real truth from him until Fifth year, making him endure a Professor who hated who he physically represented – his upbringing truly reflected that of a boy in a orphanage many years ago…

Fawkes trilled a sad note as Albus whispered softly, "What have I done?" he had put the boy's wellbeing before his comfort, protection before love. And now he was going to pay the price.

-------

**3 days later**

The funeral had been relatively private and kept under wraps – it would do no good for the magical world to learn that the boy-who-lived became the boy-who-died. The excuse Dumbledore would cock up was that he was undergoing training to help better prepare for his task that was coming. Because of this, the headstone was unmarked. Plenty of tears were shed, in particular by the girls and women who knew him and most of the boys looked shaken up as well.

Sitting in his coffin, resting in a set of funeral robes, Harry Potter lay there quietly. He was dead, of course – at the very least, he medically should have been. His heart had stopped, his body was pale and although his organs and skin had been repaired so he looked respectable, they of course didn't work.

Then something happened – there was a whoosh of air as Harry's chest rose and he gasped, sucking in a mouthful of the dry and stale air. His eyes snapped open as he took in the dark environment.

Immediately he felt like he was a child again, trapped in the cupboard under the stairs, until he realised that children weren't this tall, and this was much, much smaller than his cupboard.

His eyes flicked around frantically as he stretched his arms out – he was trapped! Slowly his memory came back to him, and it all came down to one person – _Voldemort. _Was this his cruel way of killing him? Letting him be buried alive?! Some kind of sick and demented ignoble end to the boy-who-lived?

In his desperation he started slamming into the oppressing coffin walls with as much force as he could. The first hit splintered the walls, the second smashed straight through them as Harry plunged his hands into the dirt. Too desperate to be in shock at his strength, he pushed himself up and began clawing through the dirt like a madman.

A few moments later, Harry was close to the surface. He gave one final effort and pulled his entire body out of the dirt, gasping, more in distress than from lack of breath.

The night sky above him was dark and stormy, and Harry couldn't help but feel an imminent sense of foreboding as he looked up. There was a deep rumbling as the clouds relinquished their rain. Harry felt the cold droplets on his face were…refreshing.

Several rustling noises caught his attention.

Harry snapped his head around, frowning as he attempted to see into the darkness. There were people there – people with heavy cloaks. Several of them…who?

As if acting on instinct, he closed his eyes, sweeping his hair out of his now slightly pointed ears as he listened intently.

He could feel every vibration they were making as they walked across the graveyard. The miniscule splash each raindrop made created a perfect picture. Well, it wasn't a picture or anything visual – it was indeed an image in his mind, but it was more like a sketch, something created from every sound that rung through the air. He knew that the swishing of the thin sticks in their hands meant they were armed, he knew the rain splashing on their metallic faces meant they were Death Eaters and he believed that they were here to liberate his body and possibly use it for Merlin knows what scheme Voldemort had cocked up.

Realising he was unarmed; Harry leapt backwards, and was shocked as he flipped gracefully and landed like a cat on a tree. He perched low on a thick branch, waiting patiently like a vulture waited for its prey.

A singsong voice broke into his thoughts. It was soft, yet very familiar. "Oh ickle, ickle baby Potter! Why don't you come out to play?"

"Cease your musings, Bella!" a sharp, smooth voice drawled snappishly. Lucius Malfoy. "You know as well as I do that the Dark Lord killed him. Torturing a dead body is useless."

"But I so wished to show him what Bella could do to him," Bellatrix whined. The woman truly was insane! "If only I knew Necromancy…"

"Necromancy is a dead art. Even the Dark Lord knows of this. Now come. The Dark Lord requires his body, although I will not touch that filthy half-blood's robes. He is – was - just like his mudblood mother – revolting and abominable."

Harry became blinded by rage as he seethed at that cutting remark. He leapt through the darkness in anger, his jump as graceful as silent as – well – a bat, as he reached out and slammed his fist into the first unfortunate Death Eater with all his might.

The fist shattered the Death Eater's chest and went straight through and out. He yanked his arm out, covered in blood and attacked in frenzy again.

Intoxicated by his own anger, Harry fought like a madman. There was no pattern to his attacks as he fought purely on instinct, darting in and out quickly to avoid the flurry of spells the Death Eaters were throwing. The rivers of blood were masked by the darkness of the night.

Once he had risen out of his stupor, Harry looked around. Lucius Malfoy stumbled away, broken and bleeding and Portkeyed off. He let him go, that scum wasn't worth his time and he wouldn't have recognised him in the darkness anyway. No, the real prize was wounded below him…

Bellatrix had somehow been knocked out in the thick of the fight and her comrades had not seen her fall, assuming she could hold her own.

However here she lay crumpled with a bleeding cut on her forehead. Harry picked up his wand, rage pumping through his veins. Rage was the only thing that meant anything to him now, rage was the only way he could bury and outweigh his guilt and shame. He was ready, a quick _Enevervate _and…

"Stop." A forceful female voice commanded.

Harry spun around to see a tall lady dressed from head to toe in black. Her hair was a dark red that shined vividly, even in the extremely dim light. Electric blue eyes glowed with power.

"Who're you?" he demanded harshly. Harry was impatient, he was jittery. He thought he had died but somehow survived. Now was his change to gain revenge and she was attempting to stop it?  
"My name is Sofia," the woman answered in a cool voice. "And I ask: what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to torture her then kill her," Harry stated bluntly.

"What will you gain?"

"Revenge, and you'd better not keep me from it!"

"And then what? Once you've killed her, what happens next? A dead body. Nothing changes, boy. Nothing can get rid of your emptiness."

"Don't call me BOY!" Harry snarled in anger, pointing Bellatrix's wand at her although she was unfazed by the sight.

"Do you know what you are? You are a vampire, Harry Potter. Like me."

Harry snorted in disbelief. "Really?"

"Yes. Don't you feel it? The power? The strength? The agility?" Harry looked down at himself in confusion as she spoke. "All this stems from your vampirism. You are one of us, Harry James Potter. Do not deny it."

"Then I'm immortal…" Harry said distantly.

Sofia nodded.

In the next instant she was on the ground, reeling from a powerful blow to her head.

"Then you've denied me that thing which I was seeking in the first place!" Harry roared, eyes blazing with unearthly fire. "Now I'll never be able to see my parents or my godfather EVER!" With that he turned around, dropping Bellatrix's wand and began to storm away.

Even though Sofia was feeling the severe shock and pain from that sudden attack, she knew she couldn't let him get away. She pulled out a blow gun.

Harry's eyes widened as he spun around, hearing a hollow sound before he groaned as a dull thud signaled the dart hitting the side of his neck. His eyes rolled up as he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Sofia rubbed the place where he had hit her, disturbed. She had never even seen the attack coming... the Count would find this most interesting.

-------

And he did. "You say he was able to catch you off guard?" Dracula asked, stroking his chin in interest.

Sofia bowed her head. "Yes, Count. I was also observing him beforehand. He immediately took to his acquired talents. His movements, although unrefined, shows great potential."

"Excellent." Dracula leaned back in his obsidian throne, a dark smirk growing on his strong features. "I would expect nothing less from one I sired."

"Should I bring him before you, Count?" Sofia asked.

"Yes…" The elder vampire said silkily. "Do so."

Sofia bowed in respect with both hands out, before turning around and heading off.

Dracula considered all this thoughtfully. Truly, he had considered the Potter boy to be nothing more than a mediocre wizard. Perhaps there was more to him than he originally thought.

Sofia brought in the boy's unconscious form, carrying him without any signs of strain at all. She dropped him down and stepped back.

Dracula produced his staff, sending a bolt of white energy at the child.

Harry groggily managed to get up, before, realising he was in a new environment, snapped up immediately, looking like a cornered animal as he looked around wildly, his eyes wary and flicking from place to place.

"Greetings, child," Dracula's voice boomed throughout his mansion as he stood up. "I am Dracula, and I bid you welcome to my abode."

"What do you want with me?" Harry snarled. "Are you with Voldemort?"

At this, the Count let out a harsh, barking laugh. "You insult me, child! Associating with that scum? I will not have it! Some of the Council wished to do so, but they are weak-willed men who have neither the wisdom nor the experience of one such as I."

"You're a vampire," Harry breathed.

"An obvious deduction. I have bid you welcome as a guest of my house…but now, I bid you formally welcome, brother, into the ranks of the vampires."

"I never wanted this! Why couldn't you just leave me to die?"

"I would have," Dracula stated bluntly. "However, I do dote on many of my younger vampires. I consider them surrogate children. And as such, I turned you, at the request of Sofia behind you."

Harry snapped his head to look at Sofia intensely, who looked back at him with equal intensity. "Why?"

"Most simply," Dracula said wryly, "It was because she wanted you to survive."  
"WHY?" Harry roared as he turned to face him. "I fought Voldemort and I lost. I don't care what happens anymore!"

"Is that how you truly feel?"

"Yes! All I'm doing is endangering my friends and family! And fighting for an old man's cause when all I wanted was some peace and quiet!" Harry cried. "Why couldn't anyone leave me alone? What makes me so special?"  
"That is because there is nothing special about you," Dracula said as he stepped down from his throne.

Harry frowned. "What?"

"The greatness of a man is not measured by his character, but by his choices and actions," Dracula responded coolly. "By this definition, I chose to listen to Sofia and turn you, thus giving you a chance to dwell in this world for much longer than you would originally have. Therefore one can assume that I am a compassionate, reasonable man who listens before acting. I chose to listen to Sofia, and turn you, because she begged for you to survive. And you are the result."

"What's the point of all this?"

"You, Harry Potter, have been reborn. You died, were buried in a coffin and rose once again as a creature of the night, like many of us. Do you know what this means?"

Harry's complexion had steadily become paler and paler as he spoke, even though he already was quite pale.

Dracula continued. "You have been given a second chance! Fate conspired and crossed both our paths. I decided to personally observe you, the so-called savior of the wizarding world, when I could have easily sent someone in my place – I do have many things to do, after all. If I had not been there, no lesser vampire would have been able to turn you and you would have died and the world would have been doomed."

"You know of the Prophecy?" Harry demanded.

"Yes, it was a small matter for one of our operatives to break in and locate it. Although the operative was not able to hear it, he passed it along to me and I undid the charms on the orb, heard it, then redid them and passed it back for him to replace it on the shelf. It was a simple matter – even the most difficult of magic are no difficulty for me. Lord Voldemort once claimed that he had pushed the boundaries of magic further than they had ever been, but he is like a child playing with a tree branch in comparison to what…_non-human _kinds have done, especially for one as strong as me."

Harry had calmed down now. "Is it possible to learn this magic?"

"Only if you choose to." Dracula pulled an elaborate knife out of his robes. It was pure gold with many markings carved into its surface and a single ruby on the end of its shaft. "If you truly wish to join your parents and godfather in the afterlife, I can end your existence, permanently. No amount of Necromancy can bring you back. The choice…is up to you."

Harry considered this strongly. While it was true he wanted to die, something he always wanted was now being offered to him. A chance to prove himself without any titles, or dark lords coming after him, or prophecies, or friends to nag him and ask to play chess. And for another thing – he really did want to kill that bastard, if only just for revenge. "I'll stay," he announced.

From behind him, Sofia visibly relaxed in relief.

Dracula smiled approvingly as the dagger vanished beneath the folds of his robes. "A wise choice. The dead will always remain dead, yet in this world timing is important – even to us immortals."

"So when do I start?"

Dracula smiled. "Now."  
He moved forward in a fast blur, landing a powerful kick to Harry's ribs, sending him flying across the room. "A true war is never announced! It has no starting point and no ending point! We are all at war, with each other and ourselves." He flew across the room, kicking him again. "Peace is a lie! There is never peace. Only in pursuit of war, can unity ever be achieved. Magic is but one art of war. To become a conqueror, you must master them all."

The vampire moved to kick him again, but Harry raised his arms and blocked it, scrambling to his feet as he threw punches wildly.

"You fight like a wild animal! Like a common beast!" Dracula snapped as he easily evaded them. "Even when facing Voldemort you were unruly and impatient. It is not the opponent that defeated you, you were defeated by yourself." He blocked another cross and slammed into him with a powerful palm strike into his stomach that left Harry gasping in pain. "Fool. Even as a vampire, you are not invincible. You leave yourself open to attack."

The boy tried to fight back several more times, but Dracula easily countered his clumsy efforts, before executing a sweeping kick that knocked Harry off his feet, causing him to fall into the ground.

Dracula loomed above him. "You are a child. But you will learn. Know your enemy and know thyself, and you will always be victorious. You know your enemy…" Harry tried to get up but Dracula knocked him down again. "Now, it is time to know yourself..."


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you still angry at me for asking the Count to turn you?" Sofia asked as Harry and she walked down the winding staircase.

Harry had changed out of his funeral robes and into black loose-fitting shirt and pants. The Count had dismissed them both, and Sofia was now fulfilling her own end of the agreement by taking him under her wing to teach him everything she could.

"I am, but not as angry as I was when you saw me in the graveyard," Harry replied honestly.

"Good. It'll make everything much easier." The two of them came down to the wine cellar, where a vast number of bottles were stored – the racks of them seemed to stretch on endlessly, and many of the bottles had collected a sizeable amount of dust.

Harry frowned. "Why…"

"Patience." Sofia walked towards the wall at the end of the second hall of bottles. She pressed her hand on one of the bricks and pushed it.

To Harry's amusement, the brick glowed blue as a portion of the wall's bricks began to shift and rearrange themselves into a doorway. "How bloody original."

"Rule number one: No swearing," Sofia snapped as she led him into the doorway. "Common vampires may swear, but the Count sired you and as such, you are technically his…successor. You are too dignified to be so coarse. There are other ways to insult people."

Harry grunted in acknowledgement as they turned a right in the secret passage and stepped into a room that contrasted greatly with the rest of the manor.

It was an armory – a sleek, hi-tech muggle armory, lined with weapons and equipment of various types – swords, armoured suits, guns, and several odd devices that Harry had never seen before.

"We vampires are not as…close-minded as wizards," Sofia explained to the surprised teenager as she opened a drawer, pulling out a packet of what appeared to be a dark, gray powder. "Our kind closely monitors innovations in both worlds, and if we see something worth gaining, we will…borrow their blueprints and construct our own version, that will, naturally, always be far superior."

"What's that?" Harry indicated to that packet in Sofia's hand.

The lady vampire scooped a small amount out and flicked it onto the ground – there was a muffled bang as a strong flash of light surged forth. "Explosive powders," she explained, smirking at Harry's look of shock. "Very useful."

"For what?"

"Mostly for distractions. Along the way, you'll learn how to make powders like these in the field – explosives and demolitions are necessary tools of the best assassins, whether they use state-of-the-art plastic explosives or bombs derived from over-the-counter chemicals." She offered the packet to him.

"Are vampires assassins?" Harry asked as he reached in, plucking out some powder and throwing it down onto the ground, the grain exploding with a flash and a bang.

"Our race has thrived in society's ignorance," Sofia replied as she put the packet back into the drawer. "We keep to the shadows, subtly tipping the hands of fate in our favor. In view of this, assassination, reconnaissance and stealth, are useful, necessary tools. Our assassins are the greatest in the world, due to our…unique talents." Before Harry could ask her what she meant by that, she had turned around and gestured to the rack of weapons beside him. "Pick a pistol."

Harry as such had no idea what the types of guns were, but he had a vague idea of what a pistol was. He randomly pulled one off the rack.

"The Walther P99," Sofia stated as he turned it over in his hands. "This is the unmodified version, and we'll start with that to get you up to speed."

-------

Count Dracula contemplated this interesting series of events as he looked disinterestedly into a glass of wine. Very few vampires could consume food or drink – only the strongest could. Initially he had taken a strong dislike to the fruit of the vine, but eventually found that they were an acquired delicacy that one got used to.

He truly did have a soft spot for his vampires – especially Sofia. That woman was as cold as she was beautiful, yet believed passionately in the cause for which he would gladly give his immortal life for – a world of equality between all races, a world of peace and prosperity, where the vampires held a prominent position and led the way to great futures for all.

It had been several thousand years since the ancient vampire had sired someone successfully. His attributes and prowess had grown in leaps and bounds since then – the fact that this boy had been successfully turned signified his incredible power… or it could signify an incredible stroke of fortune.

He drained a little of this glass – enough of this musing. The Count had many plans to change, others to set in place now this child had come into the fray and he would soon see if there was more to this boy than just a _very_ lucky, mediocre wizard.

A servant stepped into his throne room. Unlike the servants of other high-ranking vampires, he was not dressed in rags, but in a splendid, expensive robe. "Victor is here to see you, Count," he said with a bow.

Damn talkative maids! Although he would like nothing more than for them to give Unbreakable Vows, the majority of them weren't magical. Some weren't even vampires. Either way, he would have to plug this information leak immediately – in his manor rumour-spreading and gossip-mongering were not tolerated. "Let him in," he said with a sigh, drinking the rest of his glass and plunking it down on the throne's arm.

Victor was a burly vampire of a heavy stature, different to Dracula who was graceful and slender. He would've done well as a werewolf. "Dracula!" he snarled as he stormed in. "I've heard many rumours spinning around that you've taken in a child, who has not even neared manhood."

"I take in many children," Dracula replied elusively. "What is it to you?"

"No, but I hear that _this_ child…is special…" Victor hissed. "I hear that this child was sired by you!"

Dracula raised an eyebrow as he put on a face of indifference. "Your sources are shaky. You should know by now that rumours get you nowhere."

"Stop dodging the question like you always do!" Victor roared. "DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT sire a new vampire?!"

"If you are only here to entertain me with anger and shouting, then I suggest you leave," Dracula replied in boredom. "I have far better things to do than to waste time playing host."

"This isn't over, Dracula!" Victor snapped as he turned around, storming out in the same violent manner.

Dracula leaned back in his throne. Even with his web of influence there would still be vampires who opposed him. Those vampires were usually the ones who were stronger than the rest – many of those who sat on the Council, in fact. He would have to keep this secret from them as long as possible – if word got out that he found a successor, the consequences could be most…unpleasant.

-------

"I'm impressed, child," Sofia admitted as Harry ejected the magazine, already about to put a new one in the Walther. The barrel was still smoking from his previous shots in the firing range. "The Count had thought you a mediocre wizard; perhaps you will prove to be a competent gunman."

"I…" Harry hesitated. "I didn't want to be viewed as too studious. I was afraid that I would lose my friends. Hermione was studious, and she's despised by half of the House."

Sofia scoffed. "Now you are a vampire. You will be despised by half of us if you continue to be mediocre any longer!"

"Tell me about the Count. Is he really that powerful?"

Sofia's cold blue eyes briefly flashed with something…vaguely human. Was there warmth in those orbs of iciness? "Count Dracula is one of the most powerful and oldest vampires currently in existence. He is a master of many of the war arts, if not all of them. He is an orator, a shapeshifter, a cunning strategist and a genius leader."

"The Count mentioned them before. War arts?"

"It is a term the Count uses frequently. The War Arts refer to the many arts of war and how one may fight wars – with guns, swords, subterfuge, or magic. There is more than one way to fight a war, just like there is more than one way to kill a man."

"Is he the most powerful being in the world right now?"

Sofia laughed softly. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Remember, child, for all of our strengths, we all have weaknesses, weaknesses which can be easily exploited. There is always someone waiting in the shadows, always another enemy, always someone to oppose you, however smart, great or strong you are."

Harry hesitated. "Does that mean that even if Voldemort dies…another Dark Lord will take his place?"

"Of course. That is the curse of this world and of us beings who dwell on the Earth and under the Earth. We are doomed to endless cycles of life and death, of destruction and betrayal, just as the world rotates endlessly around the sun."

"Then what's the point in fighting…" Harry looked down. "If we know our destiny is pre-determined? If we know there will be another enemy for us to face?"

"Don't be a fool, child. How are we meant to grow strong, if not through the fires of opposition? Opposition ends only until we reach perfection."

"Perfection? But that's…"

"…Impossible? From a mortal's point of view. But for the undying vampire, it is a great dream only just beyond our grasp – one to lead us all into a new age, one freed from all restrictions. Perfect power. Perfect unity. Perfect destiny. Imagine it." Sofia's eyes grew older and distant as she reminisced. "This is the Count's true dream, and his one true weakness."

Harry was silent as several moments ticked past. The spell was broken when he pushed in another magazine with a mechanical click and raised the weapon once more.

"Enough for today," Sofia said. "Now we move onto the next lesson: hand-to-hand combat."

Reluctantly, Harry put the gun away as he followed her into the hallway and into another room. "Is the manor always this empty?"

"The Count holds many balls to stretch his influence as far of a distance as possible. But most of the time, yes, although there are more people here than you think."

Harry frowned. "Are there more hidden facilities like this?"

"I am not at liberty to disclose such information to you," Sofia replied before they stepped into a large room, much larger than the previous shooting range. It was filled with padded gym mats, all kinds of gym equipment, fighting gear such as punching and speed bags, and many other different types of equipment.

"I thought vampires already had super strength?"

"Strength isn't everything." Sofia replied as she walked into a ring, kicking off her boots and taking off her shirt.

Harry immediately blushed and looked away.

Sofia scowled. "Don't be ridiculous child. No successor of the Count will ever be tongue-tied around women. Look at me." She crossed her arms in annoyance.

Slowly, Harry turned to look up at her, gulping.

"Stop gawking at my breasts, it's not like you haven't seen a pair before on other women," Sofia snapped. "If you attended one of the Count's balls, you would see that there are far more beautiful women in the world than one such as me. Now _pay attention_! And look at my face!"

Harry immediately snapped his eyes up.

"You asked previously why we needed to learn hand-to-hand when we already are blessed with great strength." Sofia asked. "I will show you. Attack me."

When Harry hesitated, Sofia narrowed her eyes. "If you can't attack me, how can you attack your godfather's killer?"

With a snarl, Harry charged at her, throwing a punch. Sofia easily leaned out of the way and used his body momentum to push him aside. "Don't let your anger blind you," she warned. "In this instance, although you are bigger than me I was able to use your own strength against you."

Harry spun around clumsily and tried again, throwing a flurry of punches at her. Sofia nimbly moved out of the way of each, grabbing him by the arm and throwing him over her body. "This isn't a show!" she snapped briskly. "If you're going to hit me then do it!"

The boy yelled in frustration as he stumbled back up. He lunged forward like he did before, but instead of throwing a punch, he flicked his hand towards her eyes and snapped out a sharp kick.

Sofia shifted her weight as she quickly leaned out of the way and blocked the kick instinctively with a hand. She showed no surprise. "Good," she said simply. "You're learning."

The spar lasted a minute or so longer before Sofia raised her hand. "Enough. I believe I have a fair picture of your fighting ability."

Harry warily lowered his arms and relaxed his fists, waiting patiently for an answer.

"You've never needed to fight physically, have you?" Sofia asked, and before Harry could answer she continued. "I thought not. However, you learn quickly and the ability is there. Maybe you might be able to compensate for being a useless wizard after all."

"I am NOT a useless wizard!" Harry shouted in annoyance.

"Is that so?" Sofia produced a sheet of parchment from her shirt pocket and tossed it to him.

Harry looked at it as his eyes widened. "My OWL results," he whispered. "But…"

"It was easy for me to procure a copy," Sofia huffed. "Rather pathetic aren't they?"

As Harry read it, his frustration was clearly evident. "I did well!" He protested.

"Not well enough," Sofia replied. "As a vampire, you are expected to be nothing but the best."  
"At everything?"

"Everything," Sofia responded. "You don't understand the power you now possess, child. The more powerful a vampire's sire, the more powerful the vampire is. You, Harry Potter, are lucky. You were sired by the greatest and most powerful of all vampires, and that same power which makes Count Dracula great runs through you. What you do with that power is now up to you…but the way I see it, you're a fucker if you don't do the best you can."

"I thought you said no swearing," Harry said sarcastically.

"I am but a common vampire," Sofia replied with a smirk. "And this adds to my point. Until you cannot beat me in the arts of war I specialize in, then the Count has no further use for you, and you will be cast aside or fade away into the blackness of the night. However, you have an opportunity, an opportunity that many, including me, would give up our immortality for."

Harry hesitated. "What opportunity."

"You know of what I speak."

Harry sighed dejectedly as he fell down on the mat. "I never wanted any of this," he muttered. "All I ever wanted was to be normal. Why couldn't I just be normal?"

Sofia's face softened as her cold expression melted. The lithe woman walked and sat down beside him. "Just because our lives are not necessarily our own, child," she said softly, "does not mean we cannot live with it. You have not reached manhood yet. In time you will learn to accept your place in the world. Be aware, child…that while time has its importance, it is of ultimately no consequence to those who are already dead." She laughed harshly. "You will have all the time you need to accept this, although the Count prefers it sooner than later." She stood up. "I will teach you no more today. You have enough to think about. Until you are ready, don't disturb us."

Sofia walked away, leaving Harry to his thoughts, before she stopped abruptly and turned around to add one last thing. "Remember, child, what the Count said. It doesn't matter what we are like underneath. We could be the coldest, most callous creatures in the world or the warmest and kindest. The world will never know. But what it will remember forever are the choices you make. For it is the choices we make that truly define us in a way that no human emotion ever could."

-------

Retired to his study, Dracula was consulting a tome on necromancy when he felt the shadows behind him move and raised his head. "Sofia. I trust there are no difficulties?"

"Not at all, Count," Sofia replied as her form broke out of the darkness and into the study by the dim light of the fireplace. "I am here to inform you of his progress."  
Dracula turned around. "But of course. And does the boy possess sufficient skills?"

"Indeed, although he is a mere child. I believe I can train him to be a fine assassin, like myself, although as a squib vampire I cannot teach him the magical arts. His social skills need work as well – a lot of work."

"That can be rectified. So he is teachable?"

"Fairly. He has many…how do you say it…personal issues."

"Don't we all. There may be a slight problem, however. Victor came in recently, demanding to know of him."

"Victor?" Sofia raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know he had the balls to confront you on any issue."

"Don't underestimate him, he is far stronger than you may think and he knows it. He must have informants placed throughout my manor – I will attempt to sweep them out, but until then, I want you to train the boy in as much secrecy as possible. If he is able to master his latent talents, then he may become instrumental in my plans."

"You cannot operate under the Council's sight forever," Sofia interrupted exasperatedly. "Soon someone will find something out. And if Victor…"

"If Victor somehow manages to even a shred of information which he has evidence for, then he may have an unfortunate accident," Dracula said smoothly. "Trust me, Sofia; the Council is as predictable as they are stupid. None of them would dare to stand against me, even if my plans were revealed."


End file.
